


The Man Who Sold the World

by ricoaken



Series: State of the Art [2]
Category: Big Finish - Fandom, Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Lords & Ladies, Cars, Gallifrey, Outer Space, TARDIS - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 18,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricoaken/pseuds/ricoaken
Summary: Don Asiv had suffered ever since he sold his home world. His story was one of pain and anger, till he came across the two people able to help him: the Time Lord known as the Artist and his friend Eken.





	1. The Man Who Sold The World.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this is what Doctor Who could look like had it been granted with a proper budget

It wasn’t till he was all alone that he figured out how things went ever since he sold his own home world. This was his story, and after all, his story had been one of love and friendship; but now it was of sorrow and grief. This was the story of the man who sold the world.


	2. Bremen.

“Tell me again how we ended up here.” Said a girl’s voice where no light could be seen. “Is this Bremen?” She continued, trying to touch walls with her fingers. “Well it sure isn’t, right?” A sarcastic toned voice replied, that was one of a man in his early life. “Remember how beautiful it looked on the screen?” He too was, desperately, trying to reach for a wall or something that would bring them light. “I can’t see shit.” She said. “Welcome to the club—“ he said “¬—what’d you want me to do? I told you to buy that sonic thing last time we went to a space shop!” He grabbed her hand, it was warm and soft, and it brought him a sense of security, even though he’d never tell her that. “Screwdrivers they were! What good would it do, a sonic screwdriver, here? Would you, somehow, unscrew darkness?” She laughed. “QUIET!” said a loud voice, coming from what appeared to be the other side of a wall. “Are you Bremen?” the young man asked, shouting.   
A door opened, and there was a big creature, its face was of a pig or a boar, as big teeth arose from its mouth almost reaching up to its ears. “You’re too clean.” He said, and his breath smelled like something had just died right there inside his mouth. His big round belly jiggling as he walked two steps inside the – and now that was clear where they were – prison cell. “Well this sure ain’t Bremen.” Said the young man.   
Next thing they knew they were handcuffed, being pushed through a corridor full of metal cells locked in transparent doors, “This is not Earth” he thought to himself, as the rude guard shouted “WALKING!” pushing his companion once more. “Did you lock the doors of our car, dear?” she said, panting and trying to walk a little faster. “Did I tell you how annoying you can be with all the sarcasm.” He said, shaking his hands to what appeared to be a hopeless pursue to free himself from the handcuffs. “Come on Archie, at least we’re not dead.”  
A minute after that, the time lord known only as the Artist and the cyborg named Eken were standing at a big landfill, bleachers full of the all kinds of species arousing in a circular stadium. “You had to say it didn’t you.” Said the Artist. “Someone had to.” Replied Eken.  
 


	3. Shakin' at the knees.

–That’s not very creative, is it? – he said, as the pig-creature released their handcuffs.  
–What, the gladiator, coliseum, thing? – she was very nervous, looking at the big door that stood at the other side of the ring. – no it isn’t.   
–What would you go for? – he grabbed her hand, also looking at the door.  
–A submarine I think. With martians in it.  
–No, that’s not good, that sounds really boring.  
–I don’t know, grandpa, maybe we should probably start thinking about that door opening over there. – the door was, indeed, opening.  
–Wanna bet a big hound-like thing will crawl out of there?   
After that remark, whatever it was that Eken said was overcome by the screech of a microphone. “MY REEEEEEEESPECTABLE AUDIENCE!” said a thundering voice. “Ever noticed how every alien planet we come across speaks English?” Eken said. “Ye’t’s almost like that’s the only language in the universe.” The Artist answered. “Bloody Americans I tell you.” She concluded.   
“TODAY OUR GUESTS COME FROM UNEXPECTED SOURCES.” The voice continued, louder than before, as the tall door was slowly rising.   
–D’you have a phone in that mechanic head of yours? – asked the Artist.  
–Oh sure who’d you want to call, – she stepped on his left foot – an ambulance?   
–Eken! – he said, a little bit louder, shaking his foot – work with me here, try and reach the car, will you?  
–It only listens to you!   
–No it doesn’t ok? – The voice on the microphone was still talking but they sure weren’t paying attention to it. – It has your imprint on its Briode Nebuliser.  
–Brio-what? How’d you know that?  
–EKEN! – The door finally opened and there was a giant thing that looked like a bulldog with six legs. Mouthwatering as big teeth in different shapes and sizes gave it a fearsome look. – Goddammit there it is.   
Eken was certainly trying to reach out for their car, as her face became pale and her eyes were distant, the Artist was running holding tight to her hand, and pulling her, trying to reach bug pieces of rock that arose from the sand moments before. Her hands were now cold and her body suddenly appeared a lot heavier for her legs were moving slower than before. The dog-like monster certainly had not yet known of their presence, for it was sniffing around a couple of steps further in front of the door where it came from. “Hell, if you weren’t so tall!” He said, pulling her hand and embracing her shoulders as to not let her fall to the ground. “YOU’RE BEING BORING! PICK UP A WEAPON!” said the voice in the microphone, everyone in the audience screaming and shouting in the most savage sounds. “WEAPON! WEAPON!” was the only thing he could completely understand, and when he finally reached behind the rocks there were indeed weapons lying around. “Alright now we’re talking!” He said, grabbing what appeared to be a hammer. That was too heavy he could not pick it up. “Ok, no problem, this one then.” A big silver sword was in the ground right beside where he left Eken, but that too was heavier than whatever it was he could carry and laughter could be heard from the audience. “YOU’RE NOT HELPING!” he shouted, and suddenly realized he should not have done that: the monster’s green eyes looked at him, and then to the tall stones that were the only thing protecting a catatonic Eken. He decided his only chance would be to gain them a little bit of time, and so he ran around, shaking his arms up and screaming so the monster would go after him. “BABY! NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME FOR YOU TO COME BACK!” he screamed, but no response came from Eken.  
Suddenly he heard something. A song was what it appeared to be. Sound of a guitar, and it grew slowly louder. “Thunder…” said a low pitched voice, that appeared to come from the audience but the artist noticed it came from the enormous speakers arousing from the walls of the coliseum. “Ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh... thunder!...” He continued to hear, as the sound of the audience became so loud he could barely hear steps. He noticed the audience was no longer screaming: it was cheering.  
“THE MOMENT YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!” shouted the voice in the microphone. “Sound of the drums…” continued the song. He looked at Eken, still lying there. “Beatin' in my heart...” “GOD AMONG PEASANTS!” Shouted the presenter. “The thunder of guns…” The Artist could feel both his hearts beating faster and faster. “STRONGER OF OUR WARRIORS!” “Tore me apart...” the audience fell silent, and so did the song. The monster was frozen with fear, looking at the door where moments ago were Eken and the Artist.  
“You’ve been…” said the speakers.  
–THUNDERSTRUCK! – shouted the audience, the speakers and the presenter. Explosions of fireworks came from the ground and out of the door came a tall man, a hammer in one hand and an iron glove in the other. His dark skin shined and sweat dripped from his bald head, scars could be seen in his strong chest, and in a second the Artist realized what the pig-guard meant by “too clean” earlier that afternoon.   
The song continued as the man ran at incredible speed, shouting with his mouth wide open. When he jumped, his muscled arms arose and the hammer looked as if it was lighter than a feather. The artist then noticed Eken moved, and decided since that man was taking care of the monster, he’d grab his friend and go.   
–What’d I miss? – Said Eken, her light brown skin slightly coming back to normal. – Archie! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.  
–I think I’ve just seen a god. – he replied and grabbed her hand. – Did you call the car?  
–I think I did, there’s way too many spaceships in this planet. – She rose; calmly tapping her thighs so a little bit of the sand would go away. – Took me years to find him.  
–Him? – he asked, surprised as ever.  
–Yes, he said it’s a him, – she blacked out for a moment, making a funny face – it’s been months, Archie, you don’t know your own time machine.  
–Heh. – he coffed what appeared to be a sarcastic laugh – in my defense, he doesn’t really tell me anything.  
Suddenly the body of the giant dog-like thing appeared right beside them, a loud thud being heard and the man slowly walking; hammer in hand, blood oozing from his big iron glove. He looked at them both, and suddenly they felt like children that had just been forgotten by their parents at the Superstore of Orion the Hunter. “I’d run if I were you guys.” He spoke, a thundering voice that needed no microphone to sound like it was powerful. “He ain’t dead yet.” And the body of the creature moved, as if hearing what he’d just said. Eken pulled the Artist’s hand, and they both ran quickly to the next set of stones.

–Our friend’s taking a while to come here, isn’t him? – the Artist said, rolling up his sleeves. – Quick to get us into trouble, slow to take us out of it.  
–Oh don’t blame him! – Eken said, and walking a little bit faster noticed a few weapons at the other side of the ring. – You’re the one that doesn’t know how to drive.  
–Come on! He doesn’t listen to me!  
–You don’t listen to me, you don’t see me judging! – she concluded, rising a big sword, with a red hilt. – Hey mister! She shouted.   
–Yagh! – The strong man screamed in the most savage way, hitting the monster with his hammer. – What?! – He shouted, looking at them.  
–Are you trynna’kill that thing? – Eken shouted. They were relatively far from each other, as opposite sides of the ring were where they stood.   
–That’s the general idea, yeah. – He shouted, almost not believing what he heard.  
–Try this! – she threw the sword in the air, the man grabbed it before it could hit the ground.  
–How—why are you so strong? – the Artist remarked.   
–Stop. – she tightened the grip on his hand. – Be quiet now.  
In the distance, the sound of an engine could be heard. “Finally!” He said. Its wheels rapidly shaking the sand underneath them; its black frame coming through corridors, running over pig-like guards and other different aliens, destroying whatever was on its way. The door once closed was now tons of wood and iron flying around at the coliseum as the exhaust pipes made the sound of a storm coming. “He’s a beautiful thing I’ll give him that.” Said the artist, as the black ’69 Camaro arose from the dark corridor behind the destroyed door.


	4. God.

“My arms are already tired, I won’t last much longer. Hell! Where did they find this one? It’s taking way too long for him to fall. Oof! That was close. Bam! Hammer. Down again. What are those two doing. Shit they’ve opened the door. What—is that a car? No that can’t be, cars were banned. Ha! BAM! Hit you with my fist you little punk. That’ll keep him down. Oh my, are they—freaks, they can’t run away from the stadium—oh my they’re getting in. Damn look at that car, that’s not from here. They’re waving at me?”


	5. Man.

The Artist quickly parked the car right beside the warrior, with its door opened. Eken sitting at the passenger’s seat was typing something on a keyboard, a small cylinder with an octagonal base was going up and down in the middle of the panel, a green liquid pumping from it. “You coming?” said the Artist, panting, his grey shirt wet and his long brown hair messy as sweat covered his forehead. 

–You can’t run away from the stadium. – Said the warrior. – They’ll stop you. –He too was panting, covered in sweat.   
–This is a Type 71 Time Capsule that survived the Time War. – said the Time Lord, pulling front the gear lever, making the car roar as the black carcass, covered in sand shook – I’d like to see them try.

Eken opened her door, and the tall man squeezed himself into the small car, sitting on the back seat, not saying a word. He grunted as his legs didn’t have much space to move, and was startled to see that when both doors closed, the vision on the front panel changed to one that appeared to be a screen, full of numbers and words. The small cylinder at the center pumped blue liquid inside itself, making a funny sound that reminded that of a heartbeat.  
–So! – Eken looked at him, not frightened by his huge body. – You got a name, big man?  
–They call me Thunderstruck. – he said after a brief silence.   
–And is that your name? – said the Artist, now pressing random buttons at the panel, without looking back. – Like Thunderstruck Jones or Thunderstruck McDonald?  
–No! – He said, almost too loud.  
–Easy there big man. – Said Eken, frowning and raising her right hand. – Calm down.  
–No… – he continued, regret appeared to be in his voice. – My name’s Don. Don Asiv.   
–Cool name, Donasevì. – said the artist.   
–Donavito! – said Eken.  
–Donasivo! – laughed the Artist.  
–Donatellasiv! – said Eken, really loud, they both laughed shortly after.  
–DON. – said the big man, punching the seat. That act made the cat shake a little, and a strange sound could be heard at the same time as the steering wheel spinned, which scared him.   
–Man chill out or he’ll kick you out. – The driver said, slowly caressing the steering wheel.   
–Who are you guys again? – He said, eager to move but not being able to.   
–Strippers. – The Artist couldn’t help but let out a pack of laughter. – Space strippers.   
That was the final line. He punched the window at his right and sparks came out of the panel. The light from inside of the car in a second went from light blue to dark red, and a sonorous ringing sound that resembled one of a large church bell could be heard. “THAT’S IT, MISTER!” the Artists shouted, as his hand pulled a red lever on the panel and all the seats abruptly went down in a rapid circular movement. Eken fell to her side and the Artist jumped to the metal floor. Don too jumped, and with both his fists were closed, the one with the iron glove still bloody. The sound of the bells could still be heard. He looked everywhere, a second ago they were in a small car, but now they were in a big hall, where a dim red light shone upon an octagonal panel that appeared to be a bigger version of the one in the panel of said vehicle. Black tubes pumping multicolored liquid into the transparent cylinder that went up and down, shaking and pulling the tubes that stretched almost as if they were going to snap. “WHERE ARE WE?” he shouted, his voice was one of fear but full of anger. “WOULD YOU STOP SHOUTING YOU’RE MAKING HIM NERVOUS!” the bell kept sounding and was louder by the minute. Don went down. Behind him was Eken, holding what appeared to be a wooden stand coat hanger. The bells stopped, the cylinder at the center calmed down.   
–See? That’s why we don’t have guests! – said the Artist, running towards Don, checking if he was still breathing.  
–Don’t be like that; you loved what Salvador did to your room. – Eken replied, putting down the coat hanger.


	6. To my cleverness they all follow me.

When Don Asiv woke up he sat in a red chair, it’d been quite some time since the last time he sat on something so confortable. The girl named Eken sat at the octagonal panel at the center of the big hall, her feet on the panel and her hands occupied by a bowl of cereal. Some paintings hanged on the walls covered in a circular panel, where the dim red light came from. At the side of the hall, three little steps let to a big window, facing what appeared to be trees. Sitting there, facing the window, was the boy called the Artist, painting something that resembled a bird with two heads in a light blue color. “I’m awake.” He said, noticing his hand no longer wore his iron glove. Eken sat straight on her chair, startled, her mouth full of cereal. “Good.” said the Artist, not looking at Don. “Just don’t destroy anything, will ya?”   
He went to the panel, his head hurt, but not comparing to the pain he felt in his muscles. His brown pants covered in sand were the only thing he wore. Eken faced the tall man, which touched the buttons and levers but didn’t press them. He calmly walked at the window, not looking at the painter right beside him. The trees moved with a gentle breeze and the coliseum could be seen in the distance. “I was trapped there for five years.” He let out. “And you come running with your car and ‘puf’ and... we’re out.” He looked at the Artist, which kept his eyes to his painting, but let out the words. “Believe me we were trying to get to Bremen.” Eken laughed.  
–So what’s your story, Don? – Said Eken, walking towards the two men.  
–What? – He appeared to be surprised. – You mean you don’t know?  
–Babe, he’s famous, pick up the camera. – The artist said, in a purposely monotonous voice. Eken smiled.  
–I’m Don Asiv… – he circled his face with his hands – Thunderstruck… – Both Eken and the Artist appeared to have no clue.  
–We’re not from around here. – she said.  
–Shit. You don’t even know where you are…   
–As a matter of fact we do. – The Artist rose, putting a paint-brush inside the front pocket of the jeans overall he wore. – We do? – Asked Eken.  
–Planet Bremèm. – he said, smiling a little, pulling what appeared to be a screen that hung from metal parts above the panel’s cylinder. – This is a slave planet. – He looked at Eken, and then at Don. – You’re a slave.  
–You really don’t know who I am. – replied him. – Listen, we’ve got to get out of here.  
–You really don’t know who I am. – said the Artist. Don noticed that Eken rolled her eyes and went to look at the painting. – I am a Time Lord from Gallifrey and this, – he opened his arms and hands and looked up – is a time machine!  
That last sentence seemed to have most impact on the warrior, as his face went pale and his mouth then opened. “So we’re shielded?” He asked. “Yes we are, young man.” Said the Artist. Don then proceeded to the panel, and then looked at a corridor that appeared to be really long, that was side-by-side with the big window. “D’y’all have a bathroom over here?” he said. The Time Lord explained where the bathroom was, and where Don would be able to find clothes his size. When he and Eken were left alone he went to the panel and typed a few buttons, looking at the screen. Eken went to the panel too, grabbed her bowl of cereal and placed her head on top of his head, for he was a little bit shorter than her. Not a word came out of his mouth for the next three or four minutes, and then she asked what was up with him. He remarked that earlier that day he was trying to take her to see art at Bremen, on Earth, for that was the type of art that they liked; but seemed to be unable to control his own time machine. She smiled, saying that wasn’t his fault: at least they saved someone’s life that day. Eken noticed he was typing words on the keyboard, and soon the screen had the face of Don Asiv on it. “I don’t want to save lives. I want to see art.” He said. 

He walked through a long corridor full of doors leading to strange places. There was a room whit a huge library, and books kept appearing out of thin air and fighting each other for their place on the shelves. Another door led to a room completely blank, that appeared to have no floor, no ceiling, no walls; just nothingness at the other side of a door. Finally coming across a kitchen, Don Asiv selected a few goods that were displayed at the screen of round machine that resembled an astronaut’s helmet, full of wires. When it opened, there was all the food he requested and it tasted like nothing he’d ever eaten. When he finished, he decided it was about time to get back to the central room, with his hosts; and so found his way back to the corridor. The thing that he saw when he came back did not at all please him.  
The cylinder was no longer going up and down. The tubes were not pumping liquid into it. The big window was shut, appearing to be just a huge grey metal wall; and there were the two young friends, their back to wall, each of them pointing a big gun at him. “Get out of my ship.” said the Artist, with a grim look on his face.   
–Guess you know who I am now. – said Don.  
–I said get out.  
–You’re face to face with the man who sold the world. – Don said with a smile.  
–You’re a murderer. – said Eken.  
–You’re the one holding a gun.  
–He’s got a point though. – the Artist whispered. – Archie shut up. – Eken replied.  
–Listen, you can’t believe everything you’ve read on the database. – he was a lot calmer than he was when first entering the Camaro, now clean, wearing black jeans and a white shirt. – Let me tell you my side of history, alright?  
The Time Lord slowly put his gun down, the girl shortly after. “And if I’m thinking straight right here…” he pointed at the panel “You’ll be able to help me.”  
 


	7. I must have died alone, a long, long time ago.

“I’ve never been richer, not the luckiest, nor the happier man where I came from. I spent my days at bars and my nights at fights for money. ‘Was big, you know? Not like now, but always quite strong. Life for me had never been something to look forward to, so whatever I could do for money, I would. ‘Till he came around.  
Vision of heaven I tell you. He was gorgeous. His hair was light blue and his skin was of a silvery color, almost as if it was permanently shining. He walked in to see one of my fights, but I knew right away he was not there for blood. He was a pretty little thing, wearing clothes that looked like they came out of a cartoon or something. Little pretty Atro. That night I fought not only my opponents, I fought the walls of my ring, fought my desire to keep looking at the audience to see him. My fists went bam! Pow! Explosions they were called, not punches, no. But then I went down. Hell, that judoon thing was big. It was my third fight that night and so I was tired and hungry. When I hit the floor, that’s when Atro came in. He was there to stop the fights, but he was no police, said he came from another planet, one of a higher civilization, where things like my fights would be considered barbaric. Rescue he called it. Shit, I just wanted my money. I didn’t want to be rescued, but next thing I knew there I was, new clothes, new bed, bandages all over, and he came in every morning to bring me breakfast. Who was I to complain?  
A year passed. As well as I remember we had kissed already when it happened. You see, it’s not that nice when you like someone that’s got everything, cause even though he wanted me to feel like I was something, I still felt like I was nothing. See, this young fella from outer space comes, all clean, skin like silver and a mouth soft as fruit; comes down from his spaceship and tells me I, the brute, the monster that didn’t even know how to read was worth something. Shit, I wasn’t listening.  
That’s when they came. Big ship, all kinds of light coming out from it. Pop, pop, pop, little green men come out from it and say to me, drunk in an alley: take me to your leader. ‘Weeelcome my little friends!’ I screamed, the street dark and not a living soul walking around those parts. ‘I present myself, the leader of this planet!’ Next thing I knew: I woke up in that same alley, pissed and hangover, with a little golden card on my pocket. I had a shit-ton of money. Bought myself a house, a suit; bought Atros a nice little ring and went to give it to him the same week. Months passed and I didn’t even know how to explain how I had so much money.   
One day the orange skies became dark. Fuck everyone panicked. We’d seen aliens of course, and most of them were peaceful folk looking for shelter. But not them, no, not the Donokee. Those were apes. Said ‘we’re a peaceful kind, we just fucking bought your planet’ and when the president said they hadn’t bought shit, a huge fucking picture of me, a bottle in one hand and a little green alien by my side, both of us fucking smiling, appears in every single screen in every single place on the planet. ‘That’s your leader’ they said ‘he sold us your world.’ And boom! Explosion. Boom! Things flew, buildings fell, and our species was almost entirely killed.   
Mayhem in the streets and my face all around the fucking world, people trying to break into my house, setting fire to my garden and shit. I went mad. I screamed for Atros but the fucker was nowhere to be found. Days passed. Planet was already shit. Atros finally showed his face, said he’d hide, he wouldn’t leave the planet that had been his home for so long. Said he heard of a man that could help or something like that. He never wanted to see me again. I cried for days and next thing I remember I was at the stadium. Drunk in the street again when I was captured. Not by donokee, by my own kind, put me in a chair, pulled a lever: zzzap. Electricity through my veins and the loudest scream I’d ever given. When it was over there I was: alive. ZZZAP! They did it again. Pain and blood and smoke and the sorrow that kept me going, all in the same place. I don’t know, they opened the ceiling or something and rain was falling, they connected a few more wires to the chair and BAM! Another lever was pulled. A screeching sound that to this day I think was just inside my head and all I could see was a light. I’d survived a thunder.  
They tossed me at the stadium, almost dead. They said ‘you survive it out there, you get to continue living’. But I did not want to live, no. I wish I could’ve died at that chair but there I was, and you know what kept me going? First battle there he was, the little fucker, Atros, looking down at me. When I killed the beast with my bare hands I screamed and he cried, and I’ve been Thunderstruck ever since.”


	8. Dream again

The Artist and Eken sat at the steps, as Don pulled the girl’s chair that was beside the control panel and looked at them, his face looked really sad, but also patient.   
“You… literally… sold the planet.” Said the Artist. Don smiled a little, got up and walked around a little. “Look,” he said “I regret what I did, I really do, I’m so sorry but I’m not that clever after all. I wanted to try and save my planet, I don’t know, maybe kill their king or something.” The Artist rolled his eyes and went to the panel, pretending he wasn’t listening; Don continued to speak. “But then they locked me up at the stadium. They took everything away from me.” The Artist pressed a button and cylinder began to slowly go up and down, green liquid pumping. “First you took everything away from them.” He said.   
–Look, I regret it, okay? – Don continued, his hands nervously shaking. – but now you can help me!   
–Excuse me? – said the Artist.  
–This is a time machine? Right? We go back and we stop me from selling the planet.  
The Time Lord looked at the screen, a grim underneath his long wavy fringe. – I’m not changing history. – He said.  
–What? – Said Don.  
–Good luck, buddy. – Eken said, getting up and gently tapping Don in the back.  
–A dumb fuck sold Brèmem, that’s what’s happened to this planet. – The Artist pointed at his guest – I’m not touching that.  
–You’ve got to be kidding me. – he clenched his fists.  
–Ripples through time, consequences, you hear me? – The short young man came a lot closer to Don’s face – I’m not gonna be responsible for the end of the world just because YOU chose to earn a few bucks over it.  
Don raised his right fist, but soon after that he noticed Eken had her gun to his back. “Dude, get out of my ship.” The Artist said. They closed the door of the Camaro not ten minutes five minutes after that, driving away, leaving Don Asiv at his own mercy in the middle of a field of threes where the only thing he could see was the coliseum. Ships hovered around the city with lights pointing at the ground, and his face could be seen on big screens underneath them.


	9. These things take time.

The black Camaro could be seen slowly passing by trees and fields of yellow grass, as night began to fall on the planet Bremèm. Inside, Eken sat looking at the wall-sized window, while her friend messed with a few cables under the octagonal panel of the time capsule.   
–Bloody thing is stuck. – he put aside a few metal screws – I can’t find out why.  
Eken looked at him, but did not focus, her eyes seemed to aim at a distance.  
–Look, Archie, what you’ve told me… about your people… – she said, hesitating between words.   
–What about’em?  
–They’re… gone… right?  
–The universe seems to think they’re just a myth, so, yeah. – He threw a wrench a little bit too far; giving the impression he was angry. – I’d say they’re gone.  
–Why’d you have to follow their rules if they’re gone?  
He stopped, not a sound, not a movement on his body, and then he slowly walked out from inside of the panel.  
–They’re rules, Eken, that’s what they’re for.  
–I’m saying… – she struggled to talk, her hands closed on her thighs. – Nobody’s going to stop you… You’re the one with the time machine…  
–So?! They were made by people of a higher power, a higher intelligence than you and even me! – his voice was beginning to sound a little bit too angry. – I’m not breaking the laws of time just because you’ve got a crush on some freak from another planet!  
–I don’t have a crush! – she said, almost shouting.  
–Oh please, gimme a break. – he said, kicking the door under the panel. The transparent cylinder began to go up and down again. – It’s always about that with you lot.  
–What would that be?! – She arose from the chair and went close to him, reminding him she was the taller in the room.  
His face was all red; his fingers dirty with fluid from under the panel. – Enough, Eken. I’m saying it’s not our job! – He screamed.   
–He wants you to help! – Eken pointed at the cylinder.  
–He’s a machine! He doesn’t want shit! – the Artist shouted.  
–Oh yeah? – Eken grabbed the red lever on the panel and in the blink of an eye the cylinder that was red went all yellow, the sound of the panel went higher and the black tubes began to pump liquid into it. – Watch us, big boy.  
–You’re not gonna fly it. – The Artist said, his hands shaking and his legs backing off from the console.   
–Grandpa. – she looked at him, air flowing from under the metal floor to up her long wavy hair, that moved gracefully like a breeze. As she turned a circular thing that looked like a compass on the panel, the wall-sized window closed and three explosion energy shots could be heard from the panel. –Say that again.   
The ship had dematerialized.  
–Eken! – The Artist ran to the console but when he touched it his hands seemed like they were burning. – Ouch! What are you doing?  
–Fucking saving a planet it’s what I’m doing. – She said, as the ship stopped. –Grab a coat, it’s gotta be cold up there.  
The street was empty, only the engine of the black 69’ Camaro could be heard as pink snow fell from the dark sky. Eken wore camo pants that looked a little too big for her, and a leather jacket over a black sweater. The Artist was shivering, for only a black overcoat was over his long-sleeved shirt and his jeans overall. They were both looking all around, but the girl seemed to know where they were. He noticed that, and a couple minutes later asked her where they were. “When are we would be more correct.” She replied. Tall old buildings depicted a sad portrait of a town, and as they walked, the sound of a crowd could be heard coming from inside one of the buildings, as if it were a pub or a bar. “Should be here.” She said, and only at that moment the Artist noticed her eyes had a strange yellow glow in them, as if small letters were running through her vision.   
All of sudden a hovering sound was heard, and the Artist quickly gripped to his gun, that was in the overall’s left leg pocket. Eken held his hand, so he’d stop the gun, and they both looked at the little spaceship coming from the sky. At the same time, a door from one of the buildings opened, and from it came out a tall black man, his hands in his pockets and his head looking down. Don Asiv. The Artist quickly pushed Eken to one of the alleys on the street; he grabbed both her arms and pressed her body against his. “Eken, we cannot change it.” He said, his entire body was shaking, and Eken went a bit pale as she heard he say that. “Shut it, will ya?” She gently pressed her hands on his hips and let go of his body.   
As the spaceship hovered down, Don Asiv prepared to meet his destiny, that time with a new audience.


	10. Rebel rebel

Years had passed since Don Asiv smelled the air of freedom. And what a terrible smell that was, he thought to himself. His world was now a colony of the most varied troublesome species from the cosmos. The donokee were bigger in number, that was for certain. Big, strong gorilla-like people, full of fur and wearing armors made of scrap metal; they walked slowly and with a grim look on their faces. Zygons, Sensorites, Judoon, Voords and Sontaran could also be seen on the streets as he searched for somewhere to hide with every step he took. Big electronic panels at almost every wall had his face in it, a grim look and his teeth showing, sweat dripping, and so he recognized that was the short-video they showed of him at the coliseum, only this time it had a big red WANTED word painted on front.   
Suddenly he saw: a sontaran, way taller than an avarege sontaran, walking out from a door of what looked like a weapon shop. That one’s armor was not bright blue like all the other sontaran’s he’d seen at the stadium: that one was of a silvery black and grey. “There it is,” he thought to himself “my disguise”. Don Asiv had no plan, no, but if he would have a plan then that involved getting to walk around without being captured by the stadium staff. He waited in an alley till the sontaran passed, and with his hands shaking and his heart racing, jumped to the air vent that sat behind the circular helmet of the potato-like alien. The sontaran hit the floor in an instant, and Don Asiv went out of the alley, unrecognizable, wearing heavy sontaran armor.  
Fights exploded at random pubs around him, the night was hot and the amount of strange warrior species gathering in the streets left him angry and sad. Once a peaceful planet where people could do whatever they wanted with their lives was now colony to endless violence and death. “You’re home.” A voice in his head said. “You’ve made this to your home, it’s your fault Brèmem is like this.” He kept thinking. As sontarans passed by him he’d take their compliment, a punch to the chest followed by the scream of “SONTAR-HA!”, but kept walking cautious. Every donokee at the street left him the urge to punch and scream and rip and sip their blood in his hands. But that was instinct. Part of him wished for violence and death, the other only wanted to see Atro. That was the plan then: if Atro was still alive after all those years, he’d find the love of his life and together they’d save the planet.  
He slept at an alley that night. At a pile of garbage he hid himself of the sights of other aliens, and through the small holes of the sontaran helmet he looked at the sky. The stars above could barely shine between spaceships and smoke and the lights coming from the ground. “It’s all your fault, Don Asiv.” He said to himself. “All your fault.”

–HOW DID HE ESCAPE?! – Shouted a thunder-like voice, coming from inside a metal room at the Donokee’s Fleet Mothership. – NO ONE. EVER. ESCAPED THE STADIUM.  
–Sir, there was that one guy, though. – Replied the pig-faced guard. – The one with the colorful coat, remember?  
–SHUT UP! – The enormous ape shouted; his huge brown belly shaking, and the orange fur that was everywhere following the movement. – Don Asiv MUST be APREHENDED!   
–We are doing everything in our power, sir. – The pig helped himself to an old big apple that sat in a jar on top of a wooden table, voraciously biting almost the entire fruit. – But you know how he is, the man’s got something in that blood of his.  
–DO YOU SEE THIS VIDEO? YOU IGNORANT FOOL. – The ape pointed to a huge television sitting on top of another wooden table, wires of all colors and sizes on top of it along with other metal things that were partly weapons and partly electronic devices. – THEY VANISHED IN THAT… THAT… THING!  
–I believe that is called a car, sir. – The pig said, his voice almost vanishing by the end of that sentence, for the ape looked at him with his eyes on fire. – It comes from Earch.  
–Earth? – The ape hissed. – EARTH?   
–That’s it! Yes, Earch, sir!  
–You mean to tell me that Don Asiv escaped in a ship that came from that ridiculous planet hundreds of light years away from here? – He was speaking so low his voice would not be heard if it weren’t from such a big creature.  
–I don’t know, sir, I know cars and they don’t normally do that, no. – The pig nervously answered. – Those baits appeared out of nowhere and vanished later that day at the field.  
–Wait… – He raised his enormous right hand – Where did the baits came from?  
–I don’t know, sir, they appeared out of nowhere inside one of the cells, along with the car thing, sir. – He said, sweat dripping from his pale pink forehead to his jiggling belly. – We stored the car at the garage, but I think there was still someone inside.  
–You did not open the car? – The ape placed both hands on his face, his long strong arms shaking.   
–No, sir, we tried though.  
–The car… – He rose from the stone throne where he seated. – None of you pigs… – the guard looked angry being called that – Thought that maybe… just MAYBE… it was… AUTOMATED?  
–Oh, sir, it looked rubish, scrap metal I tell ya, we were going to destroy it later that day.  
–INSTEAD IT DESTROYED HALF THE COLISEUMS CORRIDORS AND ALONE RESCUED ITS CREW? – The ape shouted, and a sudden movement of his arms threw the TV on the floor.  
The guard could barely stand still, his feet were trying to take him away but he stood there with fear in his face.   
–Sir… – He was looking at the TV on the floor, where the video of the 69’ Camaro vanishing into thin air was being played over and over. – Maybe they were magicians, sir.  
–GET ME DON ASIV AT ONCE! – The ape screamed, and the sound of his voice could be heard inside the entire mothership.

Don Asiv did not wake up to the sound of the cold rain falling on the helmet of his sontaran armor. He did not wake up to the sound of the two Voords fighting in the alley. He heard sirens and hovering cars passing by but did not move, until he heard a fuss on the street. About ten or eleven different creatures spoke to each other as they watched a boy shout and flounce, held by the big furred arms of the donokee police.   
The boy was of a strange aspect, his eyes were small and yellow, and his skin was greenish and his hair of a dark brown, he shouted things that Don Asiv could not understand, and for that he finally noticed that every alien around him was speaking the same language. He did not understand why, but his attention was soon captured by the big black box that came hovering to the donokees’ front. They threw the boy with such violence, Don’s legs wanted him to move, but he stood there, watching, pretending he was nothing but an ordinary sontaran.   
“KEEP QUIET, BOY!” shouted one of the donokee. The boy punched the big black box’s wall, and when he did, it became transparent for a second, as if malfunctioning. “YOU CANNOT SILENCE US!” the boy screamed, his voice was sharp and loud; “WE WILL TAKE OUR PLANET BACK! WE WILL RESIST!” The box closed and hovered away, the soldiers, kept walking and the crowd dispersed. Only Don Asiv stood at the center of the street, not moving.  
There it was, the thing he wanted to hear: there was a resistance. Where and how would he find them? Was Atros there? Many were the ideas in his head, but nothing seemed to give him hope. He was alone. Alone in a strange planet, nothing like the one that he once knew, even the rain felt and smelled different, and the sound of the drops hitting the helmet made him want to cry of anger. Walking around the streets, people of amazing appearances and voices and manners were there, but they all seemed to have business to deal with, and the planet seemed to be only for that matter: business. At the walls, big posters with the face of the Donokee King showed the sentence “OBEY THE LAW OF THE DONOKEE”. He was an ugly enormous ape, and his face made Don want to rip apart every poster he could find.  
Eventually, he would see electronic screens at the brick walls, and just as the strange ships hovering above the city, they had his face in it. “AQUIRE THUNDERSTRUCK!” said the message. The rain kept falling and he wanted to take off the helmet, but only the thought of coming back to the stadium sent shivers down his spine. When crossing one alley, he found himself facing the beach. The sea at Bremèm had always been red, a kind of beautiful red, that moved with pink foam when the waved reached the shore. What it never had were the machines that now moved around. Strange, enormous spider-like things, with heads of metal and thin iron legs. The sound of engines and the smoke that they released at the grey sky made it almost unrecognizable.   
Then it struck him: the box, the big black box where the boy was stored was now hovering directly to the sea. Don was startled. He looked all around, empty streets if not for a robot or a vehicle passing by. No hovering ship at the sky, only he and a straight line directly to the one person he knew would take him to a safe place. His strong legs moved with difficult, fighting against the weight of the sontaran armor. The box was now at the shore, turning off its hovering system. Don Asiv ran and his breath made the inside of the helmet warm. Sweat dripping from his forehead as he jumped from a long distance and landed right in front of the box. He spread his arms open and held the thing that was twice his size, the black started to fail and transparent waves made it visible that there were people inside. Through his clenched teeth he struggled to prevent the box from falling into the sea, and with his thunder voice he shouted as the box feel behind, black, immobile. He gasped and sat at his knees.

–I told you, there’s got to be something broken here. – said the Artist, his eyes were fixed on the wasteland that was in front of the black Camaro, only him, Eken and the car were the ones at a long and old high road. – He’s never where he’s supposed to be.  
She looked at the car, the engine still working. Both doors were open and the bodywork was covered in sand.   
–You noticed how it is still a car? – She said. – I mean, it was alright on Earth, but here…  
–Well, I like it, don’t you? – The Artist smiled.  
–Sure I do, sexy, don’t you think? – She smiled too.  
–Control yourself, girl. – He concluded, wanting and receiving no answer from his friend.   
They entered the car and started to drive, the front window rapidly showed all kinds of inscriptions and numbers, coordinates per say.   
–THERE! – Eken said, and pressed one of the buttons at the small keyboard that sat out of the glove compartment of the panel. – Don’s name!  
The name DON ASIV grew a little and the shining letters pictured a photo of Don Asiv, not the one that he had at the coliseum, but one from the first time he entered the car, seating squeezed at the backseat of the Camaro.  
–Cool! It’s got some kind of… locator.  
–It’s showing us the coordinates!  
–Cool! Here we go! – the Artist smiled.  
He stepped hard on the accelerator, and the wasteland in front of them quickly became messy and then fuzzy, to give place to the bright color of a vortex, three little bursts were heard coming from the main hall that was underneath them, and a second later they were facing a beach.  
–Fancy a swim? – He joked.  
When Eken opened her door to step out of the car, she was startled by the force of a tall armored thing in a metal helmet. She screamed and tried to push the door back, and the Artist tried to reach to the door too, they both screaming and pulling the door trying to close it back. “HEY! HELP ME!” Said a deep voice from inside of the grey helmet, they continued screaming as a calm voice came from the panel. “You’ve reached your destination.” It said, and they both realized the voice inside the helmet was Don Asiv. The whole thing happened in no more than ten seconds.   
–You came back. – He said, gasping, still holding the door handle.  
–You lied to us. – The Artist said, his eyes gave a strange impression, like he was angry, but still pitiful.   
–You helping me or not? – Said Don.  
–We are. – concluded Eken.  
It all happened fast after that. They closed the car’s doors and ran straight to the black box, Don, still wearing the helmet, explained to them what he’d heard and what was the box. The Artist held a big thing, seemingly too heavy for him to carry without effort. The strange crew went to the box, the Artist wearing not his usual jeans overall, but colorful pants and a striped shirt with a red rocket in the chest, with a black blazer on top of all that. Eken wore the jeans overall, and a glittery red shirt underneath. Don Asiv was eager to remove the helmet, but decided it was not yet the time to do so.   
–Tell me again where we got that thing. – Eken pointed at the the thing that the Artist was holding, long and with transparent tubes on its side, a hole opening at the end of it.  
–Little place called MOTHER RUSSIA! – The Artist smiled and pressed the trigger, the thing exploded, a blast of plasma hit the box and a hole was left in the middle, the box went from black to gray to invisible, almost as if it’d disappeared.   
–You guys sure like a show. – Don said.   
–We’ve got company! – Eken said, her legs already moving, desperate to go back into the car.  
At the other side of the beach three hovering bikes made a loud sound of sirens, universally the sound of the police. “They’re after these guys.” Don said, pointing to the three aliens that were still inside the invisible box. They all seemed to have no idea what was happening, and soon stepped out, the green one that Don saw before at the street was the first to talk: “Tell me you’re the help.” He said. “We sure are.” Don replied.   
They ran to the Camaro and squeezed inside; Don with two little girls that had three eyes each, their skin red and their clothes of a poor aspect; Eken in the Driver’s seat and the Artist squeezing himself with the green boy at the passenger’s one. The doors closed at the exact same second that three amazingly big apes hit the Camaro’s bodywork. “OPEN THE DOORS! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST BY THE DONOKEE POLICE!” They said. “EKEN!” The Artist shouted. “YEAH!” She answered. “YEAH WHAT?” Don shouted. The young couple seemed amazed by the donokee.  
–CAN WE PLEASE GO TO THE HALL THING OF YOURS? – Don shouted.  
–IT’S LIKE… – The Artist said, excitingly touching Eken’s arms with his left hand. – THE MOVIE!  
–PLANET OF THE APES! – She shouted, her red lips spread on a huge smile as she held tight to the steering wheel.   
Don rose as much as he could, sticking his arm front to the red gear lever and pulling it behind. The car seats abruptly went down, spinning with every one of them, except Eken, falling to their sides.   
–I had no idea it was a real story! – The Artist said, not minding the fall, with both his hands still on the floor.  
–This is so cool; we’ve got to take a picture with them after that. – Eken answered, getting up from her seat.  
Don helped the green one get up, and noticed that the three young aliens were amazed by the size of the hall. They spoke to each other in low tones, almost whispering.  
–Artist. – Don said, in a respectful tone.  
The Artist was looking at Eken, and his eyes seemed to be stuck there for a moment, but then the smile left his face when he looked at Don Asiv.  
–Why did you lie? – He asked.  
–Lie about what? – Don asked. His face confused and the sontaran helmet already on the metal floor.   
They talked for a long time. Eken decided she’d take the three young folks to the wardrobe, the excuse of giving them a new set of clothes would be perfect so they would not hear the Artist shout at Don Asiv. They were happy to get the clothes, although they seemed sad and quiet most of the time. She asked them what was the box they were in, and nervously they told the story of how that was a mobile prison. They were arrested because they were part of a resistance that was formed three or four years before that. The plans were to take down the donokee king, banish their people and restore peace to Bremèm; but the more they spoke more Eken felt sad and thought of how utopic all that sounded. They had hope, but hope seemed to be all they had. No army, no weapons, no leader.   
Back at the console room, the window showed them the beach, where five or six donokee guards tried, without success, to force their way into the car. “We safe here?” Asked one of the sisters, to whom Eken kindly answered they were perfectly safe. The Artist was checking the scanner, and carefully pressing buttons on the panel. Eken whispered something on his ear, and Don looked at the guards standing at the beach.  
–I will show you something, Don Asiv. – said the Time Lord, his eyes were not kind, but his voice gave that impression. – And then you will decide what we will do.  
The cylinder went up, the tubes pumped liquid, the wall-sized window closed and they felt as if the floor on which they stood was leaving the ground. The cylinder went down, and the bubbles inside were bursting faster and faster, with light green liquid flowing inside. “I want you all to remain calm now.” The Artist said, his eyes not leaving the tall cylinder and the black tubes stretching and wobbling. Three bursts were heard from the panel, and they had clearly moved from the ground. “What you will see now may not be… enjoyable.”  
The window opened, and the crew looked out. There it stood, alone in a crowded piece of outer space. Some places covered in metal and entire enormous black cities could be seen from space. Machinery working at some pieces of ground, molting lava and fire at others; and ships from all forms and sizes were orbiting the little planet Bremèm. Don slowly went closer to the window, the three young aliens went closer to each other, and Eken held the Artist’s hand.   
–I will not change history for you, Don Asiv. – The Time Lord said, his voice in a serious and elevated tone. – I deem the laws of time to be of extreme importance and will not be the one to create ripples and distortions in the vortex for the sake of one planet.  
Don turned his watery eyes to look at the Artist.  
–But I’m offering you the chance to save it now. – He held tight to Eken’s hand. – What we have here is a TARDIS: a time capsule that can travel anywhere in space and time. It’s shielded, impenetrable, and will not hesitate to rescue us.   
He gently touched the console again with his free hand, and the cylinder was now slowly going up and down, as if it was calm and patiently waiting to move again.  
–I’m not the one offering you help; I’ve been told I still have to learn about compassion. – He looked at Eken that showed him her tongue. – But my friend here seems to have a heart of gold, and I’d follow her anywhere. Will you, Thunderstruck, accept my help to change the present of your planet?  
Don smiled, looked at the three little aliens, that now had so much hope in their eyes. He went closer to them, and one of the red-skinned sisters held his hands without shame.  
–You had me at the beginning, man. – Don concluded.


	11. Down to business

Hemmer always knew that he was born to be king. On their home planet, his donokee friends all followed him because he was big and could protect them. When he joined the Donokee Stellar Troop, his intelligence led quickly to one of the highest ranks in the army. Not soon enough, the donokee began their conquering plan, and Hemmer found it confortable to lead one of the most important planets of that plan. Bremèm would have to be conquered, but not by war. No, the donokee were a race that followed the intergalactic laws of the Shadow Proclamation. Bremèm would have to be legally bought. For that to succeed, they’d have to find a natural of that place declaring himself leader and speaking for his entire race, that would willingly read a contract and sign the planet’s disposal.   
After that happened, Hemmer turned Bremèm, now his domain, into a multifunctional planet: the donokee could extract their resources, while many amusing parks were fun to every kind of family in the galaxy. Joyful beings now could anchor their spaceships at Bremèm, and do as they please.   
His life was good, that of Hemmer. He was a loved king, no complaints apart from that of a small group calling themselves the resistance or something like that. Hemmer enjoyed being king; he had comfort, servants, fine clothing and everything he could eat and drink. The Donokee Congress respected him, for all the good he’d done to their conquering scheme. Life would not get much sweeter for King Hemmer.   
But then one day Thunderstruck had escaped. Many would not remember, for half the population was killed or disappeared, but Thunderstruck was, in fact, the man that had years before sold his home planet. Hemmer knew that if the secret of the planet’s selling situation were to be announced to the public, maybe he would not, after all, be so respected. He’d spent years cheering for every monster he put in the coliseum’s domain, but Thunderstruck defeated every single one of them. The man seemed to be almost abnormal, and if it weren’t for the few wrinkles that appeared in the man’s face over the years, he’d think that Thunderstruck was immortal.   
Hemmer looked at his enormous left hand, the right was holding a big glass of the finest wine in the galaxy. His once lustrous and red fur was now opaque and beginning to have one or two grey areas. As Don Asiv grew older at the coliseum he grew stronger, while Hemmer grew older and fatter and weaker. He threw the glass of wine away and heavily moved himself on his throne. By his side, many golden objects decorated his hall inside the once mothership – now palace – of the donokee.  
That situation was already out of hand. A week had passed since Don Asiv had fled the stadium, with help from two ordinary humanoid forms and a primitive vehicle. Neither the Donokee Police nor the Special Judoon Forces could apprehend the black Canaro, that disappeared out of thin air; and Hemmer was afraid his reign was in the hands of that stupid boy and girl they put inside the stadium as ordinary baits. He was afraid they’d join the supposedly-awaiting-to-rise resistance.  
He looked in the mirror and laughed. “You’re not afraid, Hemmer.” He told himself. “You’re never afraid. You are strong, you are mighty. No foul children could defeat your army; for they have nothing but hope.” He looked out at his window, standing tall on the highest building of the mothership. Bremèm was his kingdom, and no one would take that away from him.

Three energy bursts were heard inside the resistance’s head quarter, and a half frozen half smoking black car appeared out of nowhere. Many were startled by that presence, but Odac stepped out of the door, his green skin was abnormally pale and he was shivering, inside the big strange furred coat he was wearing. At the other door, stepped a tall chubby girl, with light brown skin and long wavy hair, shivering too, but wearing no more than a jeans overall and a striped long sleeved shirt. The next one was even stranger; wearing pants that had way too many colors in them, a black blazer and a red and yellow scarf. He too, shivering, seeming to be the palest one of the group, with his skin almost white but his funny nose all pink. “Finally!” said Odac. And the girl replied “Well don’t go complaining we’re here at least, okay?”  
–Five days. – Said one of the twins, stepping out of the car followed by her sister.   
–Five days at the coldest planet of the galaxy! – Said the boy, kicking one of the car’s tires.  
–It needs six pilots! We’re just two and you barely do anything. – Said Eken.   
–Excuse me? – said the Artist, looking at Eken with a smile on his face.  
Don Asiv was the only one still inside the car. The Artist noticed that the crowd had already noticed their presence, and the young alien Odac was explaining the situation.  
–Well, hello! – Said him, smiling and waving at the crowd, which seemed both curious and afraid of them.   
–They’re very nice, come on, say hello! – Said the twins, both at the same time.  
Eken was with half her body looking inside the car, and Don was silent, sitting inside at the back seat.   
–Eken, I can’t go out there. – He said, his voice was almost too low to hear. – They know who I am, I’m their enemy.   
–Don you’re not alone. We’re here with you, me and Archie. – She put her left hand on his right shoulder. – Odac and the twins understood what happened, you can’t hide forever.  
–Give me a minute, will ya? – He concluded.  
She stepped out and noticed the Artist was no longer there. The crowd was all around the car, admiring the car that was now melting the ice in his bodywork. As she walked, the humble head quarter seemed sad. Metal bunk beds were all around, tables with no food on them and sick looking children of many species – but many humanoid-looking just as she – were there. In fact, most of the place’s population was children. Adults seemed to give their best at taking care of the young folks that were way too many. Eken did not notice how sad were her eyes; but the children, although strange, seemed to smile at her.  
–Eken! Come have a look at this! – That was the Artist’s voice, coming from across the hall.  
There he and Odac were, looking at paintings that seemed to be alive. “Look at them! Odac’s an artist!” said the Time Lord, smiling and touching the moving ink on the paper. Eken smiled too, but looking at her friend, not at the paintings.   
–An artest? Like you? – said the young green boy.  
–Well, yes, but you are an artist! – He put his right arm around the boy’s shoulders and pointed up with his left hand spread open. – I’m the Artist!  
Eken laughed and picked up one of the paintings. A minute or two passed as they spoke to Odac about his technique, but were interrupted by shouting and a fuss coming from where the Camaro was. They ran there and was Don, out of the car, standing still with his back at the driver’s seat door. In front of him, a short man was shouting. His skin was of a blue-ish silvery tone, and he wore old but elegant clothes.   
–DON ASIV! YOU HAVE SOME NERVE SHOWING YOUR FACE HERE. – He screamed.   
–Atros… – Said Don, with tears in his eyes.   
–Oh great! – said the Artist, he touched Eken’s arm with his elbow and smiled sarcastically. – Family reunion!

They talked, but mostly screamed, for hours inside a room at the head quarter. Eken and the Artist kept bringing food and clothes out of the car, and people were amazed by the amount of things they could fit in there. For the children to not notice the fight Don and Atros were having, the Artist and Odac painted everyone, while Eken read books for everyone. Smiles were everywhere, only interrupted by the eventual shouting of “YOU SOLD BREMÈM!” by Atros and the “BUT I LOVE YOU!” from Don.   
After a lot of time, they left the room not looking at each other. Atros came to the Artist and said:  
–Thunderstruck said you want to help.   
–Want is a rather strong word, don’t you think? – The Artist said, his face had finger marks of yellow and blue paint.   
–Hi! Hello. – Eken crossed the way between Atros and the Time Lord. – Yes, we’ll help you.  
Atros did not seem the least bit sympathetic like Don described him, but they both noticed he gave the impression of being a very respectable person, because everyone seemed to look up to him all around them, specially the children.  
–The donokee conquered this planet legally. They literally have a contract. – Atros continued; his voice calm but firm.  
–It’s a monarchy! Let’s start a revolution! – The Artist said, lauighing.  
–I’m sorry, do you find this funny? – Atros frowned.  
–You’ll find he’s kind of a clown. – Said Eken. – We think that we have a way of overthrowing this planet’s king.   
–Legally? – Atros asked.  
–Legally. – Don spoke out.  
–Shit, at least let we set some things on fire. – said the Artist. Don smiled a little.


	12. Spaceman

The annual Donokee Congress meeting was an event that Hemmer always looked forward to. The president of the congress was King Lligun III; that had ruled the planet Donok for one hundred and thirty years. The first time that Hemmer attended, King Lligun III had personally congratulated him, a young king, that successfully bought one of the most valuable and resourceful planets of the galaxy. Now Hemmer was nervous, because for the first time in his ruling, the congress would be held at his domain: Bremèm.  
Now the preparations for the meeting were on motion, ships were arriving, banquets were being prepared, in no more than a week, King Lligun III was going to arrive at Hemmer’s lair and see all the greatness he’d accomplished. Every guard got new uniforms, the corridors of the mothership were cleaned, the coliseum’s cells were restored and new attractions were brought. Everything was exactly where it should be. Everything except Thunderstruck.   
Three days were left before the arrival of the members of the congress; that was when King Hemmer decided to address the citizens of Bremèm. He knew that most the population from the original species to inhabit that place was now gone, but the few who remained would not be on his side. But, as the other half of the population was full of thieves, bounty hunters and merchants, and those were the ones he’d count on. An announcement was made in every electronic device on the planet. Whoever brought him Don Asiv would receive whatever they asked for in intergalactic coin. That pronouncement got every living thing on the planet to work twice as hard on their plans. At the HQ, Atros, Eken, Don Asiv and the Artist were making plans; and analyzing the inside of Hemmer’s palace/mothership with help of the ’69 Camaro TARDIS. Eventually, Odac and the Artist would go off someplace else, and come back with tech that’d help them get inside the mothership. The plan was simple: to expose the fraud that happened when Don Asiv signed the contract. 

Hemmer woke up earlier that day. He himself polished his crown and cape. Dressed himself in a fine suit, wore three rings in each hand and went personally to the port; to greet King Lligun III.  
The first ship arrived, a small donokee ship, King Saglu II, a strong gorilla with blue fur, a long beard that went down to his chest. With him, one or two yellow-skinned slaves, that carried his cape. He knew Hemmer and greeted him with enthusiasm, a strong punch of both hands of both kings, and the scream of “ALL GLORY TO DONOK!” Then they laughed, and Hemmer instructed his guard to show Saglu his rooms. Hemmer suddenly noticed he was not aware of how many donokee kings would arrive that morning, but stood still at his place, with his chest stuffed and his chin up in a mighty pose. Next were King Mostar, then Queen Andrin and King Ganosh II. He was sure nothing would go wrong. Then he noticed: a ship brighter and way more glorious than the previous. Blue fire coming out of its vents to mark the ground of its arrival, and no more than ten minutes later it landed, and from it exited a white gorilla, with long beard and a respectable face. His cape was blue and his crown was one of two tall horns, as under his right strong arm sat a golden cane that he used to help his old legs. “King Lligun!” said Hemmer, with enthusiasm, they greeted each other and King Lligun remarked how happy he was when he saw Bremèm from space. The planet’s resources were helping entire fleets of the Donokee Intergalactic Army, and Hemmer could not be happier to hear that. They were both leaving the port, Hemmer’s hand on Lligun’s shoulder, when he heard a funny sound, a voice, that said. “LOOK AT THAT! A GIGANTOPITHECUS!” He looked, and there were two young humanoid figures, both wearing black suits, a tall girl and a small boy.   
–And who would you be? – Hemmer asked, noticing the look of doubt at the old King’s face.  
They both said nothing, the boy only lifted his hand (he seemed though, to be holding a smile) and showed Hemmer a paper that in a second appeared to be blank, but in the other showed the folks credentials.  
–Intergalactic Real Estate Administration Department? – said Bremèm, his hands shaking a little and his eyes making a funny look.  
–That is… – the boy looked at the paper – correct.   
–This is Officer Spaceman and I’m Officer Stylo. We’d like to take part on the congress. – said the girl.   
Hemmer did not know where to hide his face. He was shaking, looking at the two agents and King Lligun, looking for an answer.  
–Well… That is… – the old King spoke – a new thing every year, don’t you think? – He let out a big laugh, joyful, and punched Hemmer’s arm. – They’ll make fine guests to our feast, come on, little ones, come on!  
Hemmer was troubled by what were they doing there, but went quiet to the mothership nonetheless, as Lligun asked them all kinds of question about the planet marketing business. The preparations for the feast that was to occur at night would begin at the afternoon, and Hemmer had to prepare the paperwork to be revised at the next day. Still no sign of Thunderstruck.

–They’re in. The apes bought it. – said Atros, his eyes stuck on the screen of the TARDIS.   
–Tell me again what we do now. – Don replied.  
–We hope those two are good actors. – He moved the screen further, so he’d stay a little bit far from Don. – After that I don’t know much else. The congress is held first time in the morning tomorrow and as members approved by the supreme leader of the Donokee, that old one, they’ll have their time to speak.  
–What are those two up to? – Don crossed his arms, he pretended to look at the screen, but kept looking at Atros. The once young and fragile boy he met, that rescued him of the dump that were the fighting pits, was now a man. The youthful glimmer of his skin now gave place to an opaque tone. But that did not trouble Don. For him, Atros was still the love of his life, and the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on.  
–Hey, big man, eyes off my bum please. – Atros said, it did not show but there was a little bit of smiling on his face.  
–Sorry. – Don said, nervous.


	13. Thanks for your time

–Sorry but we don’t have two rooms left, you’ll have to split that one. – said the guard that resembled a pig.   
–That one will do; thanks. – Said Eken.  
–Don’t I know you two from somewhere? – He said, a doubtful look on his face.  
–I’m sure you don’t. – said the Artist.  
–We have common faces. – Eken added, very calm.   
They both looked at the room, it was surprisingly nice, although the metal walls gave it an intimidating appearance. The bed was a normal one, very big with red blankets. “There’s only one bed…” The Artist said with a low voice, not looking at Eken. The window, however, showed them the view of the city below, that was a busy and unhappy place. When Eken stood at the window, the Artist came to her side and looked up, to the amount of spaceships hovering and anchoring on the planet.  
–Look at all that, Eken. – He pointed at the ships – can you imagine how big this universe of ours is? How many different species are out there, how much art and music and different ways of living they can show us?  
Eken was quiet; she looked at the Artist and then looked up too.  
–Exactly how old are you, Archie? – She asked.  
–In your year system I’ll guess I’d be about a thousand… – he said, looking down, not understanding why she asked.  
–And you told me once that the old man’s one was your first body out of thirteen, right? – She continued, not looking at him.  
–Why are you asking?  
–I don’t regenerate, you know? – She touched his hand – When I’m gone… Well…   
–Shut up. – He said abruptly, letting go of her hand. – Why are you saying this?  
–I had to say it sometime, you know that.  
He went quiet, sat at the bed, still looking down.  
–You’re my first friend. – He said. – Gallifrey is gone. I’m alone without you.  
–All I’m saying is that the universe is full of life. You have a time machine; you can have as many friends as you…  
–I don’t want other friends, alright? – He shouted. – Why would you say such stupid things? It’s like you want to die.  
–I don’t want to but I will someday.  
–I’ll run down the entire universe if it means keeping you alive.  
She did not say anything after that, neither did he. They heard steps and the door of the room opened. They were scared as to what was in front of them. The gigantic King Hemmer squeezed his way into the room, grunting and cursing the walls and the ceiling.  
–Alright. – He said; a voice loud and intimidating – You folks. I’ll need paperwork of whatever it is you two will present at the congress tomorrow.  
–I believe you don’t. – Said Eken, firm, putting on the sunglasses she had at her suit’s pocket even though they were inside the room.  
–Excuse me?  
–We are here as officials of the law. And all we have to worry about here, is our own business. – She continued.  
–Well… – he was clearly nervous. – At least give me a hint, will ya? I’ve been preparing the congress for the entire year, your arrival was sort of… unexpected.  
–Of course it was. – the Artist arose from the bed. – We’re always sent to congresses of different species, to keep you all under the watch of the Shadow Proclamation.  
–The Shadow Proclamation? – Hemmer’s hands were shaking. – What would I, a humble king, have to do with the Shadow Proclamation?  
–That will be all for now. – Eken said, with gestures of her hands telling Hemmer to go away. – Off you pop, see you at the feast tonight.  
Outside, the pig guard was waiting for the King, that said:  
–Do we have cameras at their room?  
–Sir, no, sir. – the guard replied, nervously – That was the warehouse till this morning, sir.  
Hemmer was worried, and that was exactly what the resistance wanted. If everything went accordingly to plan, Bremèm would be free from slavery and oppression.   
The time of the feast was finally there. At the main hall, every king seated at the enormous table. Eken and the Artist had chairs as far from Lligun and Hemmer as they could be. Seated at the end of the table, the huge orangutangus-like Queen Andrin at their side, the two time travelers could not help but feel nervous. For tonight, they had intention of being quiet at the feast, maybe enjoy the food and head straight to their room. When the food arrived they couldn’t help but be amazed by everything. The size of everything was beyond anything they’d ever seen, and the smell was incredible. At incredible speed everyone was eating, even Eken, that seemed extremely happy; only the Artist was the one that seemed unable to grab anything. “You have to eat or it’ll look suspicious.” Eken said, as he kept only drinking wine. An hour passed and they were not finished, and the Artist was already sleepy. Laughing and shouting, especially from Lligun, Hemmer and Saglu. Eken too was laughing, even though she did not get most of the jokes. That seemed to please Queen Andrin, for eventually she’d look at them and pour more wine – spilling a lot – on their cups.  
Two hours had passed, the Artist was already nervous. His legs shaking under his chair, the faces of the apes were mixing each other, as he drank way too much wine for his small size. “How can you still be eating?” He said at Eken, which had her mouth full of what seemed like chocolate cake. Then, two or three hours later, the members of the feast began to settle down; and although she noticed that the Artist was drunk, nothing could go wrong at that particular moment. That was when Lligun spoke:  
–So… – his voice was joyful and loud, and his eyes went directly at the other end of the table, at the Artist and Eken. – Officer Spaceman!  
–That would be… me? – The Artist said, clearly way too drunk to speak.  
Eken’s eyes seemed as if they were about to pop up from her face, and cold sweat began to appear on her forehead, looking at the Artist.  
–I see you’re having a good time. – He laughed at the end of each sentence, and the other governors followed.   
–Oh yes… Wonderful! – He laughed, rising his glass. – Not like my friend Ek…Stylo’va’ere. She ate a lot, like you!  
–Spaceman… – Eken was way too nervous, whispering between teeth – Be… careful.  
King Lligun laughed and rose his cup too.  
–The little one speaks the truth. Let us toast! To a wonderful feast!  
Everyone at the table cheered and rose their cups. Eken did too, her face really pale.   
–Planet of the Apes. – Said the Artist, laughing, not rising his cup.  
–Archie shut up. – She said, no one heard it between the sounds of the cups.  
–I can’t wait to end that fucking fat fuck monkey tomorrow. – He said almost too loud.   
Eken’s body froze as she saw the big eyes of Queen Andrin looking at them. The queen opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Hemmer, that said:  
–Well, let us end the banquet with that wonderful toast. We have a glorious morning ahead of us tomorrow.   
–Yes. We’ll sleep now in your amazing ship, King Hemmer. – Lligun said, smiling.

Eken said nothing until they entered their room and locked the door. The Artist fell on the bed without saying a word. “That was close.” She added. He had a silly smile on his face, which was partially red, and she couldn’t help but smile too. “Go to sleep, grandpa.” She said, removing his coat. 

The Artist woke up in the middle of the night, worried. Eken was asleep, her arm on his chest and one of her legs on top of his. He looked at the window, at the stars, that fought for a place to shine in between all the smoke and spaceships on the planet.   
He thought of Gallifrey, about Eoropa and Cewal. How he’d left his companions behind and the destiny of his planet was still unknown to him. Then he thought of the painting. The one he stole from the museum where Eken worked, months before all that business at Bremèm. He thought about the strange blue box that was there depicted, and how Vincent Van Gogh, a poor artist from planet Earth, was the answer to the question the Artist kept asking himself: what of the Time Lords? This Doctor, whoever he was, could be the only way of him to know what had happened to his home world.   
But then the thought of Eken came to his head. That amazing girl, sleeping beside him, that made his life so wonderful at a time that only grief was left. He thought of Don Asiv, and Atros, and little Odac and his moving paintings; what was he doing? He was no hero, no. Merely an amateur artist, wandering through time and space. They wanted him to change their fate when even his was uncertain. A vagabond with nowhere to go. He closed his eyes again, but what he saw was not Don or Eken, but the sounds and screams of the terrible Daleks.


	14. Night Drive

At the dark of the night the other part of the plan was taking place. With much adversity from the car, Don Asiv drove out of the resistance’s HQ. The instructions were that the Camaro would have to be parked just outside the mothership. Since half the police was searching for the one black Camaro in the entirety of Bremèm, they’d have to use the cloaking device to drive. The car refused to change appearance, only making himself invisible, which was, in fact, a good idea. Atros was in the passenger’s seat, quiet, it’d been weeks since the last time he left the HQ, and now there he was, driving a strange vehicle in the busy streets of Bremèm.   
At the HQ, Odac had two screens, one connected to the car and one to Eken’s suit (that one being currently offline). Eveything was in place, no one seemed to be able to sleep quite well with the noises coming from Odac’s equipment and the thought of their leader being away for the night with the man that sold their home planet.  
King Hemmer’s ship was guarded at all times, and although the car was invisible, the sound of the engine was still hearable. That would make a difference if the guards weren’t so lazy after years of not a single soul approaching the place with bad intentions. Hemmer ruled not with respect, but with fear, and just the thought of being guarded by hundreds of guards kept everyone away from there.  
–I could take them out. – said Don.  
–Like you do to those innocent creatures at the stadium? – said Atros.  
–Exactly like that, yes. – Don let go of the steering wheel. He did not look at Atros. – You really have no fucking clue what it was like to be there.  
–Oh, really, Don? – He was looking at Don Asiv. – How horrible it must’ve been, to have no home, no food, no one to look after you. Oh sorry, that was me!   
–That was me too!  
–Wonderful! We finally have something in common.  
Don then looked at him.  
–I’ve apologized! Why are you still screwing with me?  
–LOOK OUT! – Atros screamed, but that sound was muffled by the crash of the car into a strange circular looking spaceship that was parked in the street.  
They were almost at the mothership, so any further fuss would most certainly put the plan at stake. “Quiet.” Said Atros. “What’s it?” Said Don, and the ship was making a sound, opening a door. “Fuck.”  
Out of the ship came a tall strong black suited humanoid form. Its head was covered by metal, a helmet that resembled the shape of an egg. He made no sound, but there was a gun in his hands.   
–Sontaran. – Atros added; his voice was nervous. – He’s probably ready to shout his lungs out for glory of the Sontaran Empire or some shit like that.  
–You’re not gonna like it, – Don opened the door and looked at Atros. – but I’mma take that fool down.  
Don was already punching the Sontaran in the stomach with one fist and taking down the gun with the other hand as Atros sighed inside the car. “Sure, honey, you’re so manlike, do you want me to, I dunno, take out the trash or cook for you?” He mumbled to himself.


	15. Walk Like an Egyptian

The Time Lord that called himself the Artist woke up to a surprisingly beautiful morning at the planet Bremèm. Although many spaceships surrounded the planet’s orbit, the sun and two moons could be seen at the sky.   
–Rise and shine! – He screamed, tickling Eken’s belly, waking her up with laughter. – We’ve got work to do!  
The Donokee Congress would begin in an hour, and the Kings were all dressing themselves in their royal robes. Big chairs were posted at the great main hall, the tallest being the one where King Lligun III would seat. Hemmer made every golden piece shine, and the sun that collaborated with him at that day made them look as fantasy itself was set in place for the occasion.   
–Some 80’s? – Eken asked, holding up a little sound system they’d acquired at 22nd Century’s Earth.  
–80’s please! – The Artist smiled.  
They danced and dressed themselves at the sound of music made by Earth’s humans. Eken then turned on the camera at her suit. An almost invisible little piece, placed at the lapel. Odac ran to the screen at the same time. Don Asiv, safe and sound with barely a scratch left out of wrestling a sontaran, parked the invisible Camaro with no trouble outside the ship. Everything was going accordingly to plan.  
Again, their chair was the smallest, at the end of a line of big ones. When they entered the hall, Queen Andrin smiled at them. The Artist smiled back, Eken’s face went pale at the exact same moment.   
A big gong sounded. The sound was incredibly loud. Not one of the apes moved, neither did the guards, but Eken almost fell out of her seat in a jump.  
–The annual Donokee Congress Meeting is now in place. – Said Lligun. – We’re hosted at the planet… – The old king put little half-moon spectacles on. – Bremom.  
–Bremèm, err, sir. – Hemmer added, seating beside King Lligun.  
–Yes, Bremum. – He said calmly. – Our members this year are:…  
–GLORY TO DONOK! King Saglu II. – Said King Saglu II.  
–GLORY TO DONOK! King Mostar. – Said King Mostar.  
–GLORY TO DONOK! Queen Andrin. – Said Queen Andrin.  
–GLORY TO DONOK! King Ganosh II. – Said King Ganosh II.  
–GLORY TO DONOK! Your host this year; King Hemmer. – Said King Hemmer, smiling.  
Lligun was about to say something when it interrupted him:  
–GLORY TO THE REAL ESTATE DEPARTMENT! Officer Spaceman. – Said the Artist, smiling and saluting.  
Eken’s face went red, but she decided to go with it:  
–GLORY TO DONOK! – Said Eken. That pleased Lligun, which smiled and looked around. – Officer Stylo.   
Lligun let out a big laugh, followed by the others, all except Hemmer.   
–We’ll now begin the report of each planet’s year since the last meeting. Of course, we all know that the Donokee Empire has been growing strong and we’ll soon be known as the rightful owners of most of the explored universe; but understanding our development is the main intention of this congress after all.  
–They really think they can just buy the universe… – Whispered Eken.  
–Space Monopoly. – Whispered the Artist, they both laughed a little, but kept their eyes focused on Lligun.  
Hours passed. Odac recorded and wrote down everything each king said. Don Asiv and Atros were quiet, their eyes stuck on the front window of the Camaro that was now a screen showing them what was happening inside the congress. Eken and the Artist were certainly bored. The Time Lord constantly moved himself, not comfortable with just sitting there. Eken too wrote things down.  
At the end of four hours, every king had spoken, and Lligun was, with his little spectacles, reading reports and moving paper around. The silence remained for a few minutes, Hemmer seemed to be looking at papers, but his big eyes were directed to the strange humanoids wearing suits. Officer Stylo was often whispering at Officer Spaceman’s ear. They smiled, and that made Hemmer nervous. Inside he hoped that Lligun would just forget they were there and end the meeting without them saying a word. Hemmer believed he knew why they were there; but wanted to believe that he was wrong, that they were there merely to listen to what everyone had to report.  
–Well. – Lligun moved on his chair; his long white beard shaking on top of papers at the front table. – I know we’ve been here for a long time now, and most of your reports are, as always, wonderful proof of how the Donokee are able to succeed whit whatever they have in hands.  
–Yes, I believe we can already end today’s sec… – Hemmer said, but the old king rapidly interrupted him, seeming to be either pretending not to hear or not hearing at all:  
–That brings us to the matter of our dear guests. – He pointed with his hand at Eken and the Artist, a gesture that made Hemmer shake in anger. – What brings you both here today, young folks?

Odac sat straight in his little chair inside the HQ. Don Asiv turned on the Camaro’s engine.  
–Showtime. – The Artist said to Eken, they both smiled and got up from their chairs.  
Eken took from one of the suit’s pocket a small black wire.   
–Gentlemen of the jury. – The Artist said out loud.  
–This is not a jury… – Lligun said, but everyone’s attention (including his) seemed to be pointing towards the strange little man in a suit.  
–What you’re about to see, may and most certainly will be, a shocking scene.  
Eken placed a really small projector on top of the table, and seated right beside it. She connected the little wire to a small port placed under her hair, right above her left ear.   
–We believe that a glorious empire, like you, the Donokee, has to be built in trust, not on force, not on fear, not on trickery. – The Artist looked at Hemmer while saying that last word. The King had a grim look on his face, but the Time Lord had a vulpine smile.  
–Well… Yes. – Said King Lligun, looking around, the other kings, especially Queen Andrin; agreeing. – We believe in ownership by negotiation.   
While they talked, Eken’s eyes directed themselves to a wall, and then she closed them. Strange images began to be shown in the projector, all of them very fuzzy, rapidly changing from paintings to the face of the Artist to other planets to the face of Don and it soon went black.   
–I want you all to direct your eyes to the projector over there. And please, remain calm at all costs, all will be explained briefly after. – The Artist said, his eyes were quick to look at every king, but minding all the guards surrounding the place.

The scene that was projected was shaky, as if it had been recorded by the eyes of the person that was seeing it. The face of the Artist was there, and he said “Eken, we cannot change it.” That was followed by the voice of Eken, saying “Shut it, will ya?”  
A strange spaceship came down, hovering from the sky, at the streets of an empty Bremèm. A big man wearing a black hood walked down the street in slow steps. “Is that Don?” said the Artist. From the spaceship, a few small green men exited, two of them carrying a box, from which they took a few electronic devices and placed right there at the cold sidewalk. The tall man was troubled by what was happening, deciding to stay a little further away from them, he walked now even slower than before. “Hey, friend, come here, will ya?” said one of the little green men. The man approached them. The camera seemed to go closer, and it was noticeable that Eken and the Artist were walking closer. “Say, how’d you like to be rich?” said the alien. “Man, who wouldn’t like to be rich?” replied the tall man. “How about you…” and the little alien pulled out from his pocket a small electronic device and what appeared to be a pen. “sell us this planet of yours?...” The man looked all around, as if he looked for cameras or anything that’d give away a joke. “What’re’ya talking about, man…” He said. “Easy, bro, sell us the planet, you sign here and you’re rich.” The little alien said, shaking the electronic device on the man’s face. “You crazy? The planet’s not mine to give.” He replied. “Well, well, well. You were born in it, you live in it. By our laws it is your planet.” The alien was smiling, with the device still up. “Nah, man, I’m outta here.” The man started to walk again, but the other two aliens held him with what appeared to be gravity guns. The Artist shook at Eken’s side, but her eyes focused even more, they zoomed in, to the scene. “Let’s do this quickly; we’ll only need your blood signature.” The electronic device emitted a blue light, that scanned Don Asiv’s body from head to toe. A little beep was heard, and the little alien smiled. “Alright, Don Asiv. Would you sell us your planet if your dear Atros’ life was the payment?”


	16. (Don't Fear) The Reaper

–WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? – Don Asiv screamed.  
–Well, you sell us the planet and Atros lives. Simple. – The little alien was walking around, while Don struggled to move but was unable to do so.  
–Don’t you DARE touch him! – Don shouted.  
Another blue light was emitted from the little device at the alien’s hand. The image of a young Atros preparing to sleep was shown.  
–LEAVE HIM ALONE! – Don Asiv screamed, both the small aliens with the gravity guns struggling to contain him.  
–Will you sell us Bremèm?  
Don’s eyes were stuck at the vision of Atros ready to go to bed. Cold sweat dripped from the tall black man’s forehead. His lips were sealed and tears were in his eyes.  
–What will you do to it? – He asked.  
–That is to our buyers to decide. – The Alien answered, a smile in his strange small lips appeared.  
–Who’s buying? – Don continued.  
–Confidential. – The alien turned off the device. – Now, will you sell us our planet or should we explode Xeleo’s Street Number 155?   
–NO! – Don screamed, for that was Atros’ address. – I’ll do it. – He cried.  
What happened next was not a nice image. They sucked Don’s blood sample with a big needle, and turned off the gravity guns, making him fall with his face on the asphalt. The two subordinates were already packing the box inside the ship when a voice was heard from inside the spaceship. It was loud but calm and it said:  
–We’ll need an alibi.   
–Boss, he’s a nobody… – the green man said, with a voice that appeared tired.  
–Believing is enough to make a fuss. – said the loud mysterious voice.  
–Changing his memories is going to cost more, you know? – said one of the subordinates. – Our Memory Maker’s jammed, I don’t know if it’ll hold.  
–Whatever it takes! Just do it! – shouted the voice.  
Then they put Don Asiv inside their spaceship, and five or six minutes later tossed him out half asleep, with an empty bottle on his hand.   
–You think we ought to help him now? – Said Eken.  
–I hate how you’re always right. – Answered the Artist.

Everyone was speechless, Eken’s eyes opened and she removed the wire, her skin pale, the Artist was sweating cold and looking at the big door at the hall, desperately moving his fingers, touching nothing, not daring to look at Hemmer. When Eken looked at the Artist she noticed his fingers seemed to be counting to ten, and were currently at four.  
–King Lligun… – said Hemmer.  
Five.  
–You… – Lligun said.  
Six.  
–I can explain. – Hemmer continued, trembling in fear of the grim look on Lligun’s face.  
Seven.  
–How disgraceful… – said Queen Andrin.  
Eight.  
–You’re in no place to explain, Hemmer. We saw everything we needed to see. – Lligun continued, he did not look at Hemmer.  
Nine.  
–But, you see… – Hemmer said, but he was interrupted right that second.  
Ten.  
Three bursts of energy were heard, and out of thin air and an amazingly bright blue light came a loud sound of engine, and there it was: the black Camaro. It almost his the table where the kings seated, but seemed to maneuver a curve, not seconds later there was Don Asiv, full of tears in his eyes, sweat dripping from his forehead. Atros could be seen inside the car, he too, crying. The Artist smiled and looked at Eken. “Right on time.” He said.  
–YOU! – Don Asiv pointed at King Hemmer, the anger in his voice could be felt inside the blood of the giant donokee. – I WILL END YOU!   
Hemmer jumped out of his chair, his long enormous arms serving as support for his enormous body, and fell with a really loud thud in front of Don Asiv. He roared, and his voice seemed animalistic, as his hand was directing itself to Don Asiv’s body, that even though tall seemed small next to the gigantic Hemmer.  
–STOP! – shouted King Lligun, everyone was stupefied, Eken grasped for the Artist’s hand, and Atros jumped out of the car, unable to say anything.  
Hemmer looked at Don, both the giants teeth were showing and Don Asiv seemed almost too ready to give the strongest punch he’d ever give, but stayed still as Lligun too jumped from the chair. The tall King Saglu II ran to his aid, helping the old king stand, in silence. Hemmer was ashamed and his face let that clear.  
–Hemmer. Your behavior shows us what irresponsibility can be in the hands of a king. Every one of our kings and queens, since the first planet that Donok ever conquered, did it with full consent of the law. – Lligun said, panting.  
–DONOK WILL NEVER ACHIEVE AYTHING THROUGH THE LAW! – Hemmer screamed, turning over to face Lligun, his teeth still showing.  
–BOY! – Lligun’s voice was mighty and respectful, everyone rose from their chairs right that second, ready to jump if Hemmer tried anything against the old king. – We donokee do things our way. You have dishonored your race!  
–I HAVE MADE THIS PLANET THE SOURCE OF MOST OUR FUEL, OUR GOLD, OUR FOOD! – Hemmer screamed.  
–THROUGH CRIME! – Lligun let go of Saglu, and although the white gorilla was way smaller than Hemmer, the giant stepped back, in respect or fear. – YOU CHANGED THAT YOUNG MAN’S MEMORY. – He pointed at Don. – YOU’VE TAKEN AWAY HIS LIFE!  
–The planet is MINE! – Hemmer screamed and laughed. – Once the contract is signed there is nothing that can change the ownership of the planet!   
–I’ll gladly take it away from you with my bare hands. – Said Don.  
–That… – And Lligun faced the floor, then Don. – Is possibly the only way, young man.  
–Wait… what are you talking about? – Eken went to Lligun. – The planet’s not his, he robbed it, and the contract is illegal!   
–The contract has a being of this planet’s signature. – Lligun said. – It is legal.   
The Artist seemed to notice that even though Lligun was saying those things it was with great hesitation. He was still digesting everything Hemmer had done, the way that planet was brought to their empire… he hated it. The Artist went further, closer to the old king, and said:  
–However…  
–However… – Lligun chinned up. – There is a clause in our book of laws, that states a trial by combat for cases like this.  
–Then let’s do it. – Said Don.  
–Don. – Atros thigtened the grip at Don’s hand. – Let’s talk this out, don’t fight.  
–It’s my last one, Atros. – Don replied. – I’ll take that fucker down and then I’m done with it, I won’t ever punch a living thing after what I’m about to do to him.

“Well, that was not part of the plan.” Odac said at the HQ.  
The coliseum was filled with different kinds of aliens, and there was way more audience than usual. The announcer was troubled when he received notice that the King would be fighting Thunderstruck at the pit, but made the preparations for it to happen. The VIP mezzanine was prepared to receive King Lligun II and the others, along with Eken and the Artist. After the scandal at the congress, three hours had passed, which gave Odac time to access the coliseum’s cameras and transmit the fight to the HQ. Atros was a pile of nerves, walking around and not saying a word. “He did it for me.” He sometimes let out, as Eken would notice. King Lligun frowned since the incident, letting out few words and orders. The Artist kept trying to him out of allowing them to fight. Everyone seemed to fear that Don was not going to be able to fight Hemmer. They knew he was strong, and the announcer remarked that, they never intended for him to fight an intelligent creature such as Hemmer. He was used to fighting animals, not giant donokee.  
But Don was not afraid. If everything, he was glad to end that inside the stadium. He felt like Hemmer had personally robbed years of his life. Years he spent away, hating himself for selling his home world. All a lie. He never did sell anything, they took it away from him, and he was just a man at the wrong place at the wrong time.  
He knew the corridors where he was, he knew its walls and the sound that was playing when the announcer screamed that this was the moment the audience had been awaiting their whole lives. “Sound of the drums…” Don Asiv felt like that was too, for him, the moment he’d been waiting for all those years. “Beatin’ in my heart…” The announcer said that after all his absence had been planned, and today the King himself would take down the criminal. “The thunder of guns… tore me apart…”   
It wasn’t till he was all alone that he figured out how things went ever since he sold his own home world. This was his story, and after all, his story had been one of love and friendship; but now it was of sorrow and grief. This was the story of the man who sold the world.  
Don got up and put on an old iron glove. He punched his own chest as the door opened and he heard the audience scream his name; and he did too. “You’ve been – THUNDERSTRUCK!”  
Hemmer ran, roaring, the pit was full of new stones and trees, especially placed for him to throw and jump around. His incredibly long arms tore one of the trees away from the ground and tossed at Don, that dodged with incredible speed and kept running in silence as the ape screamed. Another rock almost hit his head but he dodged that too, and with his arm shielded himself from a big branch of a tree tossed by the monster. He jumped and punched Hemmer on the stomach, but the King felt nothing and as if he moved pieces of papers around, tossed Thunderstruck away.  
–YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY PLANET AWAY FROM ME! – Hemmer roared.  
–IT WAS NEVER YOURS! – Don roared and ran once more, ignoring the blood on his mouth and the pain in his legs.   
He jumped and rapidly punched Hemmer on the nose, continuingly punching the ape on the face. At the audience, Atros and Eken were the most nervous; as the Artist and the donokee seemed almost too calm watching the fight. Eken looked at the Time Lord, but he kept his eyes at the pit, where the enormous ape and the man fought. Hemmer picked Don up like a small toy and pressed pinned him to the ground with incredible strength. Atros screamed and punched the glass, but soon after that Hemmer’s hand moved, and there Don was, roaring and rising the Apes hand with much effort.  
–Archie! – Eken went to the Artist. – He’s not gonna make it look at that.  
–Eken I don’t think it’d be fair if we helped him now. – He answered.  
–We have to do something. – She touched his hands and he could see the worry in her eyes.  
–Stay here. – He said.

Thunderstruck stomped Hemmer’s foot, the ape roaring in pain, but soon kicking the warrior away at an incredible distance. The audience kept cheering, that was the most amazing fight they’d seen at the coliseum. The king picked Don up with both hands, and screamed “I WILL BREAK YOU!” But Thunderstruck let go, and with his hands broke one of the fingers on the big hands of the king that roared in pain. Don hid himself at the back of a tree, the pit seemed like a forest, the sound of the audience screaming and his enemy roaring was incredibly high, but then he heard something: “Hey, big fella.”  
It was the Artist. Their meeting was brief; the sound of the Camaro’s engine couldn’t be heard inside the pit, let alone the sound of the three bursts of energy that it did when materializing. The Artist tossed something big, in the shape of a gun made of black metal, at Don’s feet and only said. “Point and click.” The car disappeared again between the trees, its wheels not moving, as if it was there a moment and gone the other. Then the tree where Don was hiding left the floor: Hemmer had ripped it and his mouth was opened, his teeth showing. With one hand Don grabbed the gun and dodged Hemmer’s stomp. At the exact same time the Artist rejoined his friends at the mezzanine. “What did you do?” Eken asked him. “Gave him that death ray thing Tesla gave us.” He answered.  
Don Asiv pointed it towards Hemmer and pulled the trigger. The thing seemed to be loading, and that lasted for at least four or five seconds. Then clouds began to appear at the sky and just when the ape was about to punch Don once more, a giant blue lightning came down and struck him right on top of his head. The thing was in flames and Don let go of it, his hands heated. The ape fell unconscious, the crowd went silent.   
“THE KING WAS THUNDERSTRUCK!” The announcer screamed at the microphone and the audience went wild, cheering for Don. The door of the pit opened and out of it Atros came, running in tears; he ran towards Don and hugged him, as they both cried. King Lligun smiled and went along with the other donokee down to the pit. The Artist smiled and hugged Eken.


	17. The way it was

The donokee ships left the planet Bremèm two days after their congress. King Atros and King Don Asiv would be in charge of welcoming the agents of the Shadow Proclamation that were to help evacuate illegal alien ships off the planet. They projected that in two or three years Bremèm would be back at the state where Hemmer had found it, a place that seemed able to prosper.   
Eken and the Artist stayed there for days, celebrating with their friends that they were finally free; but as time passed Eken noticed her friend was growing anxious to go after the stars in his time machine.   
When they announced that they were leaving, Atros and Don were sad to hear it, but declared a celebration would be made for them, at the beach, with food and drinks and fireworks. The time lord and Eken danced all night long, bare feet in the sand, with the warmth of the planet’s night filling their bodies with happiness.  
Time came when they were to say goodbye, a cold morning where a breeze passed by Eken’s long hair. They all hugged and wished each other happiness. “Come visit us.” Atros said, and Eken smiled, thinking that they didn’t even know the planet’s coordinates to begin with.  
–When we met you said you couldn’t help, said you wouldn’t help. – Don said to the Artist. – But you changed my life, man.  
–Heh. Don’t mention it. – The Artist said, not facing Don.   
–You’ve got a big heart, Artist.  
–Hearts. – He showed two fingers, and touched his chest. – I’ve got two.  
Don smiled.   
–Then that’s why you didn’t back off after all.   
–I did it for her. – He pointed at Eken, that was talking to Atros and laughing.  
–Then thank her. – Don shook the Artist’s hand. – You two take care, spaceman.  
–You too, big boy. – The Artist smiled.

Then just when they were about to start the car, little Odac came running; holding a rectangle shaped packet. “This is for you, Artist.” He said, and handed them what appeared to be a painting, covered white cloth. “Open when you’re settled.” The Artist laughed and answered: “Boy, you keep painting, ya hear me?” He looked at the boy’s hands that touched the door of the Camaro, and then at the panel, that displayed a picture of a grown Odac, with the status “renowned painter” On it.  
Eken opened the painting; it was both of them, at the night of the beach, dancing and laughing. Eken smiled and looked at the Artist, who did the same.   
–We should become art collectors, don’t you think? – Eken said.  
–Girl, that was my plan all along. – He concluded.


End file.
